


Flat on the Floor

by gollumgollum



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: (kind of), Animal Transformation, Crack, First Time, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Prequel, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:41:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4188954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gollumgollum/pseuds/gollumgollum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny's got three boys; it's not like this is anywhere close to the strangest thing he's found in an unexpected place.</p><p>(In which Claude Giroux can't even do animal transformation like a normal person.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flat on the Floor

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Put a hex on you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930181) by [auctorial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/auctorial/pseuds/auctorial). 



> This is what happens when _someone_ writes ridiculous animal (and other things) transformation fic and you decide you want the backstory to the punchline. 
> 
> What even is my life.
> 
> Takes place before auctorial's story; reading one is not necessary to understand the other, as they both stand alone. (What i'm saying is, _this was not my idea._ )
> 
> Title taken from something that is definitely not a song by a (rightfully) maligned Canadian band whose name rhymes with ickle hack.

Danny finds Claude's clothes first, in a pile in the living room. It's the early days of Claude living with them and they're still feeling things out, still getting used to each other's habits and weirdnesses. He isn't sure how Claude's clothes ended up there--if he dropped them, or changed in the living room or something, and Claude isn't home to ask. Danny just shrugs and leaves the clothes in a bundle on the end of Claude's bed for him to deal with whenever he resurfaces from wherever he's wandered off. Danny's got three boys; it's not like this is anywhere close to the strangest thing he's found in an unexpected place. He makes a mental note to check with Claude to make sure he isn't treating Danny's living room like a locker room, if only because he doesn't need the boys getting that idea into their heads.

He doesn't get the chance that night, because Claude never comes home. In fact, the next time Danny sees him is the next day, when there's a thump in the living room and Claude goes hurtling through the house naked save for a strategically placed throw pillow. Danny blinks after him from the kitchen doorway, confused; he hadn't heard the front door open, but maybe Claude was trying to sneak in and...ran into the coffee table? Now that he looks, it's a little askew, even though it's not in the path Claude would have taken from the front door to the stairs.

Okay, Danny thinks. Claude probably hooked up last night and then pissed her off, or went out with one of the boys and got pranked while he was passed out. He gives Claude a minute or so to get some clothes on and pull his dignity back together, then follows and knocks on his door. "You okay?"

There's a long pause, long enough that Danny's considering knocking again, before the door finally opens to reveal a fully clothed, very nervous, very red-in-the-face Claude. "You, uh, saw that," he says, not meeting Danny's eyes.

For some reason, Claude's nervousness is giving Danny pause. He'd been planning to tease him a little, get the story out of him, but that feels like it may be the wrong response here. Instead, Danny shrugs a little. "Wasn't the first time."

Claude's eyes shoot up to stare at Danny, anxiety suddenly radiating off of him in waves. "In the locker room?" Danny says gently.

Claude stares at him for another couple of seconds before he blinks and shakes himself. "Oh. Yeah. Right." He rolls his shoulders like his shirt doesn't fit right, like he's trying to stretch something out, and runs a hand through his hair. "Um. I'm just gonna..."

"Of course," Danny says, stepping aside to let Claude pass, because it's clear he's feeling a little trapped. He waits till Claude is a few feet away from him before he calls out his name, gently, letting just a little bit of his Dad voice sneak into his voice. Claude stops but doesn't turn. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Claude says over his shoulder; Danny can only see his face in profile, what isn't hidden by his hair. "I'm fine."

"Okay," Danny says, not wanting to push. Claude's his roommate, not his kid. As long as he doesn't make a habit of running naked through the living room, Danny's got no need to know what that was all about.

At least, not until the day that a crash comes from the den, waking Danny from his pre-game nap, and he finds Claude naked, the built in shelf broken, and pieces of a board game--Settlers of Catan, he sees--scattered around. The kids are at school, thankfully, and Danny hadn't even thought Claude was home. "What," he says, still groggy and trying to put the pieces together. "Were you climbing the shelves?"

It doesn't make sense, he realizes as Claude stands. Claude isn't one of his boys, not yet full grown and with Danny's short genes besides. The broken shelf is shoulder height on him.

Also, well, the whole naked thing.

Claude is as close as Danny's ever seen him to a full-on panic. "I can't--Just--" He's pacing like a caged tiger now, not looking at Danny. "Please," he says finally, sounding broken.

Danny steps aside, because Claude looks like he's having a breakdown, and Danny doesn't have any idea what to do about that with Claude in his current state. Belatedly, a thought occurs to him and he catches Claude's arm as he tries to leave. Claude flinches at the touch, but Danny doesn't let go right away. "Just--it's not drugs or something, is it?"

Claude laughs, a low, hollow sound. "No, Danny," he says, and clearly makes an effort to pull his shit together long enough to look Danny in the eye. "It's not that. But--" He looks away, takes a deep breath, and his voice comes out low and tight. "Please don't make me explain this right now."

"Okay," Danny says quietly, letting go of his arm. "But I will need you to explain." He's got the boys to think of, after all.

Claude nods. "I know," he says. "I will." And then whatever willpower he'd summoned up deserts him and he bolts for the stairs.

Danny plans to corner Claude about it the next day, but once again Claude is nowhere to be found--he disappears after dinner, while Danny's cleaning up, and again doesn't come back that night. He skips optional skate the next morning, too, which isn't like him, and doesn't show up for dinner either. Danny's not sure if he's annoyed, concerned or pissed, but he tries to focus on the boys and lets them drag him into the living room after dinner to play Smash Brothers with them. He's in the middle of getting utterly destroyed when the unmistakable sound of the trash can crashing to the floor rings out of the kitchen, followed by vigorous, if muffled, swearing in French.

Danny all but sprints to the doorway, all three boys hot on his heels. The sight that greets him draws him up short--Claude, or at least the naked lower half of him, sticking out of the overturned trash can and covered in the scraps and mess from dinner. His head, shoulders and torso are wedged in the can, and as Danny stares he kicks his legs, trying to flip over or work himself free, Danny doesn't know.

"Claude!" he snaps. "What the--"

"I think he's stuck," Caelan interrupts, shooting him a look that Danny can't quite interpret.

Danny takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Okay," he says, then raps on the side of the garbage can. "Hold still," he shouts at Claude, who stops struggling. "I don't want you to kick anyone."

It takes more effort than he expects, Danny pulling on Claude's legs to keep him from sliding across the floor as the boys team up to pull the can off of him. Claude has eggshell in his hair and tomato sauce smeared across his chest, and he'd brought the entire contents of the garbage can with him when he came out, strewn across the tile around him. They all kind of stare at Claude for a moment. Claude stares at the floor, knees drawn up to his chest. It's Caelan who breaks the silence. "So, do you, like, transform into an ant or a mouse or something?"

Danny blinks and looks at him, but Caelan just shrugs. "A guy in my class turns into a duck, and when he does, his clothes all fall off. I found Claude's clothes a couple of times, and I thought maybe that's what he's doing, too." Now that Danny thinks about it, this makes sense; animal transformation is rare but not unheard of, and some people are more weirded out by it than others. Danny can understand why Claude was reluctant to explain, especially if he turns into something embarrassing.

Claude still isn't looking up. "It's...a little more complicated than that, but yes. That's what happens."

"What do you turn into?" Cameron asks.

"Not an animal," Claude says tightly.

"A bug?" Carson guesses.

"No," Claude says, and shoots a quick, pleading look in Danny's direction.

"Okay, guys, upstairs," Danny says firmly in his 'no arguments' voice. "You can have half an hour to do whatever you want in your rooms, then it's bedtime. Unless you want to clean up the garbage," he threatens when Carson looks like he wants to complain.

"Come on," Caelan says, tugging Cameron to his feet. "G'night Claude."

"And wash your hands," Danny calls after them.

They sit there for a minute after the boys disappear upstairs, the silence stretching between them, Danny trying to figure out what to say. It occurs to him abruptly that Claude probably doesn't want to have this conversation naked and covered in garbage, so he pushes up from the floor and tilts his head towards the stairs. "Go shower," he says, "then come back and we'll talk."

He's got most of the mess scrubbed up when Claude reappears in sweats and an old t-shirt, wet hair curling behind his ears. Danny waves him away when Claude hesitates like he wants to help, so Claude sits on a chair, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of him.

"So what do you turn into?" Danny asks without looking up, scrubbing at one last bit of something sticky that's being stubborn about coming off.

Claude takes a breath, then lets it all out in a whoosh of air. "I...don't know, exactly."

Danny stops, then, and gives him an incredulous look. "What do you mean, you don't know? What, you just don't know the name for it?"

"No," Claude says slowly. "I mean I have no idea what I turn into. I don't--it's hard to explain. I'm not an animal. I don't think I'm a plant. I can't move myself, either--you guys have been doing that."

"Wait," Danny says with rising horror, "you think one of us threw you away?"

Claude shrugs miserably. "I don't think that, Danny, I know that."

"And when you were on the shelf..."

Another shrug. "Someone put me in a box." Claude quirks his mouth into a little smile, although it doesn't reach his eyes. "I think the time before you just left me on a table."

He looks angry, Danny thinks, angry and defeated. "Well, I'm glad it's not drugs," he says with a slight smile of his own, trying to lighten the mood a little. "I'll tell the boys to come find me if they find your clothes. Is there anything we should do to keep from...making this happen?"

"No," Claude sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I don't know why it's happened so many times here. It's never been this frequent before."

"Maybe it won't happen now that we know," Danny suggests.

"That could be," Claude says, nodding. "Just. Don't tell anyone? I don't need someone deciding I'm a liability on the ice."

"Of course," Danny says. "I won't."

He's thinking about that promise a week or so later as he blinks at the pile of pads that was, just seconds ago, Claude standing next to him. The locker room is its usual chaotic post-game mess and no one seems to have noticed Claude's disappearing act. Danny's already stripped down to his Under Armour, so he picks up the gear as if it's his own, carefully, not wanting to squish whatever Claude is at the moment.

Maybe it's a good thing this happened while Claude was in his pads, Danny thinks a moment later, staring at the small piece of--what is this, cardboard?--in his hand. If Claude had been wearing street clothes, Danny might have mistaken Claude's...no, _Claude_ for something that had fallen out of his pocket.

Claude is hexagonal and flat, his edges smooth, a couple of inches in diameter and with a question mark inscribed on one side. He's about the size and shape of a coaster, Danny thinks--and then starts as he realizes that he _used_ Claude for a coaster, the first time. "Sorry," Danny whispers guiltily, not sure if Claude can hear him.

He turns Claude over in his hands, looking for clues, but there's nothing but the question mark and a coffee ring staining the opposite side. "Of course you would have to be different," Danny snarks, but softly, and with a certain amount of exasperated affection. He gets dressed, then carefully tucks Claude into the front pocket of his shirt, making sure to button his suit coat to keep it safe. "Don't go changing back on me till we get home," he murmurs at his pocket, giving it a reassuring, gentle pat.

He doesn't know what to do with Claude when he gets home, so he ends up carrying him around with him as he eats and gets ready for bed, careful to prop the cardboard hexagon up where he can see it and also where Claude won't get stuck or fall and hurt himself if he changes back. He doesn't, though--change, that is--so Danny ultimately places him on the pillow next to his, where he can keep track of him in case Claude changes back in the middle of the night. "Goodnight, Claude," he whispers before turning out the lamp, feeling perhaps a little foolish.

The boys are all up in the morning before he is, sitting around bowls of cereal at the table in various states of dress when he carries Claude in. Cameron looks like he's barely conscious, shoveling cereal in on autopilot. Carson only has one sock on, his cowlick sticking up straight at the crown of his head. Caelan is bent over a math textbook, scribbling answers down on a piece of notebook paper in between bites. Danny pauses in the doorway for a moment and allows himself one of those parental moments where he's overwhelmed by love and fear and affection for his beautiful, ridiculous children. No one in his or Sylvie's family has ever transformed, as far as he knows, but all the same he offers up a quick prayer for his boys, that they be protected and able to protect themselves if they ever do.

Steeling himself, he joins them at the table, Claude held carefully in one hand. He'd hoped to find Claude snoring and naked this morning, but Claude had been sitting on the pillow when he woke up, his question mark staring at Danny, like Claude was mocking him. "Whatcha got?" Carson asks him before he can dwell on his disappointment much longer.

"Boys," Danny says, waiting until Caelan and Cameron are looking at him before he holds up the confused hexagon, "I don't know how to explain it, but this...this is Claude. He changed last night after the game."

Cameron blinks for a second, then looks up at Danny, horror in his eyes. "But--I threw him away! Oh my God, I threw away Claude!"

"It's okay," Danny says, running a hand down Cameron's back to soothe him. "You didn't know. None of us knew."

"I didn't mean to," Cameron says, gnawing at his lower lip.

"I know," Danny tells him. "He wasn't hurt, Cam. It's okay."

Carson's still blinking at Claude, head tilted like he's trying to figure out the punchline. "I put him in the Settlers of Catan box," Caelan says, just as much to Cameron as to Danny. "Is that what happened to the shelf in the den? He changed back?"

Danny nods; it makes sense. "Now we know," he tells them. "If Claude changes, I need you to tell me right away, and be careful not to step on him or hurt him, okay?" They all nod. "You also need to be respectful of Claude, no matter what shape he's in. Put him somewhere safe if I'm not around, and don't make fun of him for this, okay? He can't help changing, and it's very difficult for him."

"Yeah, Dad, we get it," Caelan says.

"Alright," Danny sighs. "And don't tell anyone, either."

"We know," Carson chimes in, and they do, he knows that.

"Okay," Danny says, letting it drop. "Then let's get moving. We need to leave for school in ten."

He considers bringing Claude with them when he takes the boys to school, but then he thinks better of the idea; the last thing he needs is to have a naked Claude appearing suddenly in the drop off line. So instead he puts him back on his bed. It's probably the safest place.

When he gets back from taking the boys to school, Claude hasn't budged. Danny sighs and picks him up, tucking him back into his shirt pocket, where he'll be warm. He's not sure why it makes him feel better to have Claude within arm's reach at all times, but it does. He talks to Claude as he goes about his morning, picking up after the boys and getting his dry cleaning ready to take in so he has suits for their upcoming roadie. "So you're not coming to practice, huh?" he says finally, once it's time to get to the rink. "I'll make up something, but you're probably going to have to tell them the truth." Claude's not the only shifter in the league; Danny knows of a couple of guys, and there have been rumors about Crosby for years now, although Danny doesn't think he actually turns into a dragon. But he's never heard of anyone turning into an inanimate object, much less one that could be mistaken for a coaster.

Claude continues to not answer, not that Danny expects him to. Danny sighs and returns Claude to his bed.

Practice is a shitshow on the heels of last night's loss, a game that feels to Danny like it happened last week. It doesn't help that Claude isn't there, either. Danny isn't sure if they'd believed him when he'd told them Claude was sick, and it feels like they're working him twice as hard as usual. He's never been so glad to get off of the ice in his life, anxious to get home and check on Claude.

Claude, who still hasn't changed. Danny sighs and picks him up, carrying him to the living room. "Guess you're spending the day with me again," Danny says with forced cheer.

Claude doesn't change while they watch tv, nor has he changed back when Danny wakes up from his nap. He stays cardboard and hexagonal through the afternoon hustle of hockey practice and homework and dinner, and it's not until the boys are in bed and Danny's doing the dishes that there's a _pop!_ and Claude's sitting on the counter next to the stove, naked as a jaybird.

"I set my coffee on you," Danny blurts out before he can help himself, startled. "The first time you changed."

"...Okay," Claude says.

It's disconcerting, seeing Claude looking so lost. Danny reaches for the first thing he can think of. "Are you hungry?" Claude hadn't eaten after the game, after all.

"Yeah," Claude says, rubbing at his mouth.

"I'll make you a plate," Danny says.

Claude slides off of the counter and sits down at the table, still naked, and Danny finds he doesn't mind. He warms up the leftovers from dinner, waiting to see if Claude wants to talk about it.

"I missed practice," Claude says after a minute. It's not a question.

Danny nods. "I told Coach you were sick." Something about the certainty in Claude's voice is bugging him. "You were aware of how much time went by?"

"It's always twenty-four hours," Claude shrugs. "Pretty much to the minute. I don't know why."

"Oh," Danny says, spooning food out onto a plate. He sets it on the table, then snags a protein shake for each of them before sitting down opposite Claude.

"I could..." Claude takes a bite, then another one, clearly thinking. Danny waits him out. "Did you carry me around?"

Danny can feel himself blush. "I didn't want you to be lonely," he admits sheepishly. "Or get hurt."

"Thanks," Claude says. "It was nice, knowing you were there."

"So you're aware of things?" Danny asks. "You knew what was going on around you?"

"Yes and no," Claude replies. "It's not like it's..." He waves his fork around, trying to find the right words. "Conscious thought. More like I have, uh, impressions of things. I don't really think that I think in my other form, just that I remember after. Like when you wake up from a dream and you don't remember what it was about, just how it felt, you know?"

Danny nods. "That...makes sense, I guess."

Now Claude's watching him closely. "What do I turn into, Danny?"

"A confused hexagon," Danny admits. He's reaching for a pen and a napkin before Claude can respond, sketching out a rough version and showing him. "Basically, like that, except made out of, uh, cardboard."

Claude just stares at the drawing, food forgotten, for a long moment. "What the fuck," he breathes finally, dropping his fork to rest his head in his hands. "What. The. Fuck."

"I told the boys," Danny says, figuring he might as well rip the Band-Aid all the way off. "I wanted to be sure they knew what to expect." He doesn't say _so that they don't throw you away next time,_ but he's pretty sure Claude heard that anyway.

Claude nods, then laughs, a bitter little chuckle that turns to full blown gales of desperate laughter. "My mother will be so proud," he says finally, shaking his head.

"There are people you can talk to," Danny says carefully. "Specialists." He'd done some research that afternoon, waiting for Claude to change back.

"Do you think they'll be able to teach me how to change into a duck instead?" Claude snarks.

"No, I think they'll be able to help you figure out what's been triggering your transitions," Danny says with patience, "and how to keep them from happening again."

"Yeah, maybe," Claude says.

"What happened, the first time you changed?" Danny asks curiously.

Claude flushes all the way up to his hairline. "You, uh."

He stops, and Danny's perplexed and on the verge of feeling guilty all over again. "What did I do?"

"You were wearing that blue shirt," Claude says, barely audible.

Danny blinks. "What blue shirt?" he asks, although he knows the answer as the question comes out of his mouth. It's an old Expos t-shirt, one Sylvie had gotten him years ago, and he's filled out a little since then. It's soft and snug and stretches tight across his chest and shoulders, and he only ever wears it around the house, because--

His thoughts come to a grinding halt at that, and he gapes at Claude. Now Danny's blushing, his cheeks hot. Claude's eyes drop and he stands abruptly. "I'm going to go--" he starts, moving to step past Danny--except that then there's another _pop!_ and a piece of hexagonal cardboard flutters through the air.

Danny catches him before he hits the ground. "Oh, Claude," he murmurs, turning the hexagon over so that the question mark is facing him. "You could have just said something," he says, and then, impulsively, presses a gentle kiss to the question mark.

He doesn't hear the _pop!_ this time, but maybe that's because he's too busy grappling with the nearly six feet of naked hockey player that suddenly materialized in his arms. Claude looks just as startled as Danny does, if not moreso, and for a second they just stand there, staring at each other, bare inches between them. Then Claude's muscles tense beneath Danny's hands, and before he even realizes what he's going to do, he surges forward and kisses Claude before he can slip away.

Claude makes a noise, one Danny can't interpret, and kisses him back fiercely. He still tastes a little of coffee and cardboard. Danny feels like his feet have come unmoored, like he's literally floating, clinging to Claude to keep from floating away, and for a second he's afraid he's turned into a balloon or something. But then Claude's arms wrap around his waist, reassuringly solid.

Danny can't help but laugh, just a little, once they finally come up for air. "My Expos shirt?" he teases, grinning puckishly up at Claude.

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" Claude grumps, but the corners of his mouth are pulling up in a helpless smile.

"I slept with you on my pillow," Danny confesses, because he figures Claude shouldn't be the only one who's slightly embarrassed here. "I wanted you to be safe. I wanted to know where you were. I wanted to know if-- _when_ \--you changed back."

Claude licks his lips, like he's trying to decide whether to be sappy or a smart ass. After a second, he leans in a little, voice dropping. "Is there still room on that pillow for me?"

Danny grins, nudging him towards the stairs. "Always," he promises.


End file.
